Xmen: DARK
by YoungD16
Summary: Not good at summaries but it's an interesting take on the life of mysterious mutants that leave in city of New York. Hope u enjoy


X-men: DARK

By YoungD16

**Author's Note:** As a young writer and a fan of X-men, I hope to please an audience as much as Chris Claremont and Stan Lee did when they blessed us with the racially diverse and justifying superhero comic X-men. As fans it's sometimes hard to read the pages of an X-men title and read something you think should never happen, but the beauty of being American is that if you don't like something you can change it. You can write your own stories and sagas to match your feelings. And with that said I'm proud to be a fanfic author.

I wanted this story to be really dark and gritty; I wanted people to really feel the dark side of this comic. Hope you enjoy…

**Chapter One: **Resurrection

_Drugs, sex, and money; I love this town and know it like the back of my fucking hand. You gotta be strong in this city else you aint gonna make it far. It's a shame how this town will make or break people, but that's life, so unjust…_

High as fuck lying down on gram's couch on a Sunday afternoon was like water and Kool-Aid, they belong together. Anyway, grams don't give a fuck about it, as long as I don't get nothin' on her couch. Old geezer don't even know how to make it to the bathroom much less take after herself; guess that's why I stick around. But eventually things gotta change around here, if there's anything I've learned from life it's that things don't last long. You can be fast as shit but it'll catch up to you eventually and soon as you at you're peek, you pull that muscle and it's over. That's how life really is and I don't sugar coat shit, I'm real, really real. That's why I'm in this position now; I was too real for the fake…

It started about two months ago, I was on a case in uptown New York and it ended messy. The blame of course went to my firm, which at the time was wrapping up the previous case that ended negatively. But as always I was cool, not caring about anyone but myself, that's the way it has always been; believe it. The case was simple, rescue and report back to HQ, unfortunately some things so simple can become complex within minutes. Some whacko in uptown was talkin' crazy shit about how this mutant chick was the offspring of Lucifer. As always I didn't buy it, I've heard much more convincing bullshit; Charles Xavier can tell you that. The guy turned out to be an ex-con that had had previous counts of "insanity" but had had a history of "unexplainable" escapes. Funny how we leave the police work to the people who don't do their job, then people like me have to pick up where they failed. It's all good I get paid, much more than I could say for my last job; Xavier owes me more than money. He, in a way, is responsible for my existence. I sometimes wish I was never born; I've seen too much pain as well as felt it.

Word on the street spread that I was responsible for the death of the ex-con, Marvin Manly, and now I had better watch my back or else I won't have one. Whatever, I've heard worse, much worse. They don't know me and if they did it'd be a different tale, much different. So I continued to work for my firm, which will remain unknown to you until I'm ready. I was in the middle of a case when they dropped me, saying, "Bishop, our movement has no place for the baggage that is attached to you, we're letting you go, sorry…". It was hard; I'm still trying to take it in. With the X-men it was my choice to leave but I had never been asked to leave like that, it hurt, I didn't think that it could happen. Now I spend my days on the couch smoking blunts and drinking vodka watching Paris Hilton do her video thing. But like I said, eventually things gotta change, along with this lifestyle.

NYC, the boiling pot of the world, now that the sentinels are an environmental necessity I feel it only important to say that I should piss on the president's head. What the fuck was Charles thinking letting this kind of thing happen? That's the difference between Magneto and Xavier, Xavier looks for solutions, Magneto makes them. I'd join the revolution if I didn't know where it'll lead to, but unfortunately I do know where it'll lead. X-men, Brotherhood, Morlocks; same bullshit but in different wrappers. And it's funny how I had bought into it all these years, I was a part of this thing just as much as the X-men were apart of it. Things just slowed down when Jean died, but it's all the same, Scott got another broad to replace her anyway. What I want is peace of mind, which I'm still not getting due to the fact my health, is never going to get any better. When the doctor said AIDS I nearly died right there but I'm a fighter I knew I could fight it. Still, knowing is enough, and feeling is too much.

Its 1:30 in the afternoon, the sun is shining through the blinds and the large apartment complex of Ms. Baker is filled with orange and red-orange fragments of light. I sit and watch Paris do her thing, damn what I wouldn't give…Still, that's what got my health the way it is now.

_Bringgg!_ --- the phone started to ring loudly.

I picked up not anticipating the conversation that would take place.

"Hello?" ---I said as I picked it up.

No answer, so I hung it up.

Bringgg! ---the phone again.

I picked it up this again, this time annoyed.

"Hello? Who is this?"

No answer. _Click_, it was a waste of my time to answer.

Bringgg! The phone once again…

"Who are you? This is the last time I'm answer so make it good!"

There was silence; I listen at first, but nothing. I started to hang up when I heard a sound, it was faint but there.

"Hello?"

A crackling sound then…nothing.

"Hello?"

_Bishop…_

I knew exactly what I heard; a voice. I most definitely heard a voice.

"Hello? Who the fuck is this!"

There was a rattling sound and then many voices in the background, all jumbled together. None of the voices made much sense, they weren't saying anything. It was if it were an alien language…

"Who is this!"

_He wants you…_

And then there was a click, the line went dead, and all I could hear was the dial tone.

Crazy ass mofo trying to scare the shit out of me, it always seems like someone is playing a game with me, like it all is just a game. The city where dreams come true, NYC, is the city where nightmares rest too. I've seen bloodshed, rape, and freaks of nature in this city; corrupt, that's what this place is. Everyday we drink and sleep in this filth that is our paradise. I sometimes wonder if this is the spot where the devil fell during the holy battle in heaven, because it seems as though all evil reside in this dark and dangerous place. And for some sick reason I still bath in it, eat in it, breath in it. For some unknown reason I still feel comfort in it. A few days ago some woman told her child I was a bastard, it didn't affect me much, which is sad. But part of me regrets not ever knowing my father, my physical and spiritual father.

Have you had that dream recently? The one where you die at the end? The one where everything feels real yet it couldn't be? I have that dream every time I pick up a bottle of vodka. Funny thing is…I keep on drinking that vodka. The dream world is better than the real one in my opinion. Sometimes its better to not know the truth than it is to know. Sometimes you need to just drown in your sorrow and be resurrected in a new and better form. But most people don't realize that, that's why they think I'm crazy…And maybe I am, but I'll never admit it.

_Knock, knock!_ Someone is knocking at the door, guess I better get my ass up and answer.

"Hello, sir, this is for you." --- the doorman gave me a red envelope, I thanked him and shut the door.

The envelope was read Bishop there was no last name or anything. I ripped the envelope open and piece of crimson red paper fell to the floor. I reached down to pick it up, who would send me a letter? The paper was light, it was folded in half so I unfolded it and read what was written.

_Fire._

It didn't make sense to me, why would someone send me a piece of paper labeling fire? For some strange reason it was bothering me very much. Who ever was trying to scare me was starting to break me. I crumbled the paper and throw it in the trash. I quickly noticed that the trash was full so I decided to take it out, the least I could do for grams. I knocked on grams door to tell her where I'd be going but there was no answer. She'll be alright, she's tough. I went down the elevator and down to the dumpster. The day was bright oranges and reds, typical for the inner city. And the smell of the city…wait, what's that smell…?

_Fire._

I looked up to a sky full of smoke and it was coming from where the apartment was. Grams! I rushed up to the apartment before the firemen could catch me but it was too late…the apartment was engulfed in the flames of an uncontrollable fire. I ran in anyway, covering my face with my hands. I ran to grams room and kicked down the door and what I saw was deeply disturbing. Not only was this fire intentional, it was suicide…grams had somehow tired herself to her bed. Jugs of kerosene were beside her bed and her body was flaking into the smoke filled air. This whole time there was no screaming or sign of emotion from grams. What the hell is going on?

Grams' head finally lifted up and her eyes, or what was lift of them, were now a blinding yellow. And her voice rang out like a shockwave.

_The devil sent me to give a message to you, bastard child. He is coming for you…Are you ready, Bishop?_

Suddenly grams' head twisted around and snapped off, blood spouted from where head once was. I decided to get the fuck out of there before that was me. I darted for the door as the firemen came charging through, they ushered me down the steps. I headed down to the ground floor to get some fresh air.

The apartment building residents crowded the outside of the building as they watched the firemen take out the fire. I watched in confusion, did that really happen? Did a dead woman just talk to me? I looked around and suddenly I didn't know anyone. Everyone is a stranger to me; I realized that now I was alone. Grams was the only one that I'd consider close to me, or at least as close as I'll let anyone get. I looked around and for sec I thought I saw someone, someone very familiar…A glimmer of light shone in the corner of my eye and saw a figure dash away. I followed stupidly, searching for what I don't know. The figure ran down an alleyway and disappeared, I started to head back but something caught my eye. I walked to the end of the alley and saw a black feather lying on the ground.

A black feather… There was only one person it could be…

I decided I'd take a little visit to the Bronx.


End file.
